Whirlwind
by X23 Maximoff
Summary: Gambit's life after the Island incident. He left thinking he'd just go back to his normal life of card dealing. Too bad the hits just keep on coming. Continuation of X-Men Origins: Wolverine.
1. Chapter 1

beginning notes: this story takes place directly after the film "x-men origins: wolverine." it is going to follow gambit as his life continues, and will involve some comic book/cartoon aspects and some that are completely and utterly fictional. some characters will be legitimate and used in their proper settings. some characters will be original and therefore used in their proper settings. some characters will be legitimate, but will not be used in their proper settings. capiche? i suppose it's just easier to take them as they come. the quotes at the beginning of each chapter are taken from various parts of Joseph Heller's _Catch-22_.

i hope you enjoy this! leave a review if you so desire.

--

_**But Yossarian knew he was right, because, as he explained to Clevinger, to the best of his knowledge he had never been wrong.**_

--

Remy LeBeau considered himself to be a smart man. After all, you don't sneak your way out of a top-secret-mutant-experimenting-on base by being stupid. But as smart of a man as he was, Remy simply could not figure out why Logan would act so strange.

He couldn't ignore the feeling of regret as he flew away from that blasted island, leaving the strange Canadian behind. Something was most definitely wrong with Logan, but Remy did not consider himself qualified to assess the issue, since the only psychology training he had received had been from watching reruns of _Oprah_ with his Tante Mattie while waiting for his adoptive brother Henri to get home from school.

And so, Remy obeyed Logan's final wish, leaving the feral mutant to his own devices as to getting off the island. The flight back to New Orleans was much quieter and much more lonely, with Remy praying to whichever god that chose to be listening at the moment for Logan's safety. For some peace for the poor guy. Three hours later, he landed the plane smoothly at the dock, inwardly congratulating himself and his experienced hands on another landing well done. He exited the plane, tying it up appropriately so that his beloved Sofia (he had purposefully neglected to tell Logan that he had named the plane - Logan had made fun of him enough for less embarrassing things) did not float downstream only to be picked up by some backwater bayou trash that would definitely not be gentle enough on her. She was a delicate thing - only Remy truly knew how to treat her. That's why she flew for him and not for her previous owner.

Remy leaned his hip against Sofia, idly watching the sun as it began its descent over the horizon. He made a mental note to watch more sunsets in the future, as this was truly nature at its best. As the last golden rays begin to melt away, Remy pushed off the plane, walking steadily down the dock. It was time to go back to work. Tyrone, his rusted green pickup truck, eventually roared to life, startling the black birds in a nearby tree and scattering them into the inky twilight sky. Tyrone, unlike Sofia, was a machine that ran completely on human hope. Each day Remy would sit in the skin-searing hot leather front seat and hope he would start, then turn the key and listen as the engine turned over a couple times. Remy would hope harder, and the engine would turn over a couple more times. Remy would hope some more, and then it would finally catch (1). And so reason number one of the list entitled "Why Remy Was In Trouble With His Boss" was that he was late to work, seeing as Tyrone, being his usual, drama-queen, temperamental self, took seven tries before deeming Remy's hope levels to be high enough. This was after the coaxing, the angry yelling, and the pleading. Reason two on the list "Why Remy Was In Trouble With His Boss" was that Remy had not come in to work the night before. As the top dealer in the house, this was completely unacceptable. Reason three on the list was that the night before Remy went absent without official leave, he had started some sort of fight with a burly Canadian man that ended with a rather large hole in the wall of Remy's boss's establishment.

"Don' bother, LeBeau." Chief (said boss with said list) said as Remy wandered in a good half hour late for his shift. Even though the actual action in the gambling house didn't start for another half hour, Remy was expected to show up an hour before doors open in order to help set up. At the sound of Chief's voice, Remy stopped moving, right in the middle of picking up his lucky fedora - which was still in its place from when he left it two nights ago.

"Pardon me, sir?" Remy asked, trying to play up the Southern boy charm. Unfortunately, Chief had four daughters, and was therefore immune to Southern boy charms in any way, shape, or fashion.

"Ah said, 'don' bother, LeBeau.' Yo' deaf as well as destructive now?" Chief asked sarcastically.

"Now, sir, about that little tiff from a' couple nights ago..." Remy began, feverishly trying to think of an explanation.

"Don' bother, LeBeau." Chief said, shaking his head. There was a warning in his tone now.

"Very well, sir." Remy said with a nod, placing his lucky fedora on his head. "Ah thank ya fo' ya time." With that, Remy turned on his heel and calmly exited the gambling house, wondering exactly what he was going to do next. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly, making his decision for him.

"Food time, then." Remy muttered to himself with his gentle Southern lilt, fishing out his wallet. A frown graced his handsome face as he opened his said wallet only to find his expired driver's license and social security card, both of which were pretty much useless in his endeavor to find money for food. But this was New Orleans, Remy thought to himself as he passed a street performer with an open guitar case in front of him. Surely he could use his...skills to find a way of obtaining a meal.

Remy inconspicuously cracked his knuckles, scanning the half-filled street for a target. He zeroed in on a man in a pin-striped business suit who was sweating like a mouse in a cat convention. The man distractedly dabbed a white handkerchief at his face, checking his gold Rolex to see how late his intended appointment seemed to be. Perfect. Remy stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his head bowed so his eyes would be hidden beneath the brim of his hat. He was just a few steps away from the man now...

"Sorry." Remy grunted as he dropped a shoulder on the man, imperceptibly grabbing what he believed to be the man's wallet. The man barely moved from the impact, and apologized as well. Remy's hand (and the man's wallet) was back in his pocket before he completely passed the guy. He was home free. He was in the clear.

Until he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked right behind him.

"Give it he'e, boy." the man said menacingly, moving so that Remy could feel the cold steel of the gun right on the back of his neck. Remy smirked, raising his hands up.

"What do ya say to a game o' cards?" he asked, flicking out a deck from his jacket sleeve. The man pressed the barrel harder into Remy's neck.

"You don't wanna gamble with me, punk." was the verbal response. Remy's smile widened as he flipped out a card - eight of clubs, a solid choice - and held it between his first two fingers.

"Au contraire, mon ami," Remy drawled in Cajun-French, his eyes flashing red in the darkness as he charged the card. "Ah'd take that gambit any day." He charged and threw the card in the air with a precise flick of his wrist, listening in happiness as the card whined on its way back down in a strait nose dive towards the man. The man dropped the gun in order to avoid getting blown up, giving Remy the opportunity he needed to turn and face his opponent, charging more cards and sending them one after another at the man, making them pop on the sidewalk around his feet like firecrackers. He laughed and was just about to tease the overweight man for his awkward dance steps when he heard five distinctive clicks behind him. Remy dealt himself five cards, charging them as he slowly turned around. He was met with the sight of five revolvers, all pointed at his head.

Now, a smart man can admit when he as been wrong. Remy, later, would be able to admit that his following actions probably weren't some of his most shining moments.

With an expert toss, all five cards were sent to their specific targets. As the men were distracted by the flaming missiles, Remy dropped to the ground and swept the legs of the nearest opponent out from underneath him, using what little momentum he retained to leap into a spinning round-house kick that landed right in the face of the man next to his now fallen comrade. However, reason dictates that in a five-on-one competition, most likely the one is going to lose due to the fact that one cannot watch all five at the same time. This would explain why Remy would suddenly collapse to the ground as his knee was kicked out of place by the opponent that had been just past his peripheral vision. Remy could feel four gun barrels on his neck, and immediately regretted his decision to try and fight his way out of this.

"Uncle." Remy gasped out, trying not to show how much pain he was in.

"Yo' uncle ain't he'e, boy." one man said.

"Mercy?" Remy tried again.

"She ain't he'e neithe'." came another voice. Remy swore under his breath.

"Tante?" he tried once more, earning him a smack in the head with a gun. He swore louder this time, sitting up straighter so that the blood trickling from his temple wouldn't drip into his eyes. An unknown hand reached into his pocket, fishing around for the stolen object. "Whoa there, friendly. Don't ya think ya should buy me some supper first?" Remy asked cheekily as the wallet was retrieved from his pocket. The men surrounding him were silent for a moment, and Remy got the feeling they were discussing something without him.

"Boys?" he asked, sitting up a little straighter. The pain in his knee was slowly ebbing away. "Care t' share with the class?"

"Shut up." one man said, roughly grabbing Remy by his long hair and pulling his head back so that Remy could see the shiny silver metal of the revolver being pointed right at his face. "Do ya wanna tell me who ya workin' fo'?" Gun Man asked.

"As it so happens, Ah'm in between jobs at the moment." Remy responded, earning a kick to the gut.

"Try again." Gun Man said.

"Look, buddy, Ah'm seriously confused." Remy grunted, trying to recover the air that had forcibly been removed from his lungs. "Ah'll be honest witcha. Ah was tryin' to steal Stony Malone over there's wallet so Ah could buy me a cup o' gumbo from that corner stand three blocks from here before goin' back to my apartment and catchin' up on mah Tivo'd episodes of Grey's Anatomy."

Gun Man chuckled mirthlessly. "Wise guy, eh? Looks like ya wantin' this the hard way."

With that, Remy was knocked unconscious.

--

Remy awoke with a loud groan. However, the noise made the drummer in his head angrier, and so the groaning was subsided at once. He took a moment to collect himself, taking mental count of all pains and positions. His head was the most noticeable pain, closely followed by his knee, which still ached terribly. It seemed he was sitting in a chair, hands tied behind him. Nothing surprising at all. It was a little chilly - who had removed his leather jacket? - but other than that, there was nothing else in the environment besides an annoying semi-darkness.

He clenched his eyes tightly shut, hoping the pressure would relieve some of the pain that was tackling his temples. He felt the dried blood lightly pulling the skin of his cheek, which was the most obnoxious sort of pain he had ever felt. He shook his head to try and clear the cobwebs, but that only seemed to anger the gremlins now residing in his skull. Another clench of his eyes, and Remy LeBeau was officially tired of his head hurting. He fingered the device constraining him and smiled - really, these crazy fools believed they could hold him by a simple length of rope? Another brush of his fingertips and the rope was charged, breaking with a pop like a firecracker. Remy felt the residual stings on his wrists from the small blast, but ignored them, choosing instead to loosen the ropes at his ankles. A quick charge of the lock and freedom was easily obtained. Remy checked either direction in the brightly lit hallway, seeing nothing but an empty white expanse of tile and doors. Apparently his captors did not have much faith in his escapism. However, one step into the tiled hallway and alarms began blaring, not helping his headache at all.

Remy quickly chose to go left, running down the hallway towards the end, where there would be stairs more than likely. There were no windows, so he assumed that he was currently underground. He heard a door at the other end of the hall crash open, and heard the sound of bullets escaping from their chambered holds. One whistled by his ear, crashing into the wall next to the stairwell door. Another door, much closer, crashed open as more men came running to recapture him. Remy thought quickly, grabbing a card out of his back pocket and charging it, flicking it at the wooden hand railing of the stairs. Once the blast secured a long enough piece, he kicked the hand-rail-turned-bo-staff free of its hold, grabbing it just in time to whip it around, one end clocking the first man hard in the face. The second man came in without hesitation, and Remy quickly knocked the gun out of his hand before twirling his pole and hitting the man in the stomach, shoving the doubled-over man backwards and knocking over the third guy, who was on his way into the stairwell. In their moment of jumbled confusion, Remy was able to close the door, carefully angling his rail-staff so that they would be unable to open the door. Well, unable at least for the ten seconds he needed to race up the stairs.

He crashed through the door to the ground floor, the plush carpet muffling the heavy thuds that his boots caused as he ran down another empty hall. He seemed to be in someone's mansion, and before Remy could fully register why someone who owns a mansion would have such a strange basement (or why this house seemed so familiar), he heard the distinctive sound of a Benelli 12 gauge gun being pumped.

"Whe'e ya goin', LeBeau?" an oily voice slithered into the sudden silence, and Remy suppressed a shudder. He placed his most convincing smirk on his face, turning slowly to face his opponent. The man was shorter and more wiry than Remy, definitely not strong enough to win in hand-to-hand combat. That fact, however, was useless, considering he was the man holding the shotgun.

"Julien. How nice ta see ya again." Remy said cheekily. "Was just on mah way out o'yer humble abode here. Don' wanna cause any trouble."

"Yea, because clearly trying to steal certain plans of ours isn't causing any trouble." Julien said, blue eyes ablaze with anger.

Remy's brow furrowed. "Ok, now Ah really don' know whatcha talkin' about, Julien. Ah was just tryin' ta grab some gumbo money. Perfectly honest work."

Julien laughed derisively. "Ya never worked an honest day in yer life, LeBeau. And now ya never hafta." He raised the gun, pointing it directly at Remy's chest. Remy raised his hands, keeping up the calm facade even though his heart was beating a mile a minute.

"Now, now, Julien. Ya don' wanna kill me here." he said, mentally preparing for the speed he was going to have to exhibit in a moment. "You'll get blood all over the carpet."

"Eh, it can be replaced." Julien said with an eye roll. "However, not sure Ah'll evah get this kind o' opportunity again-"

"Julien!" At the sound of his name being called, Julien was momentarily distracted, and Remy was able to pull out another card, charging it and sending it directly at the gun all in one move. The ensuing blast enabled Remy to drop and roll away. He quickly rolled up, taking two steps before skidding to a halt in front of Marius Budreaux, leader of the Rippers clan.

"Marius. Always a pleasure." Remy drawled, glancing nervously back towards Julien, who had recovered and was now stalking towards them, shotgun still in hand.

"Julien, leave him be." Marius said as if Julien was simply annoying Remy by poking at him or something.

"But Father, he-"

"Ah am aware of what he did, and negotiations are bein' made." Marius said calmly, his eyes never leaving Remy's. From behind Marius, another taller man slinked out of the shadows, coming to stand next to him. Jean Luc, while being tall and willowy in frame, gave off a dangerous and powerful air, especially when he trained his angry sights on Remy.

"Pere!" Remy said, putting forth a jovial front.

"Don' 'pere' me, boy. Yer adopted." Jean Luc said shortly, his anger evident.

"Now see, most parents wouldn' hold that agains' their chil'en." Remy said.

"Jean Luc, Ah am growin' weary of his sass." Marius said.

"Try livin' with him." Jean Luc replied. He reached by Marius, roughly grabbing Remy by the arm. "You are ta leave here right now and go back ta the house. We'll talk later." he said, pushing Remy towards the exit to the Ripper house. Remy stumbled out, his head still aching horribly, as well as quite a bit of the rest of his body. The sounds of Julien's whining could still be heard as Remy spilled out onto the front porch, the streets of New Orleans dark and desolate. It would be a long limp home.

Forty-five minutes later, Remy quietly let himself into the mansion belonging to the Theives Guild, the door closing with a soft click. His footsteps were light on the old wooden floors, his movement silent for all intensive purposes. He took the liberty of letting himself into Jean Luc's study, flicking on the desk lamp and collapsing in one of the plush armchairs stationed in front of the desk. He groaned as his body sunk in exhaustion, the pain in his head coming back. He leaned his head on one of his hands, trying in vain to get into a comfortable position. He knew that any negotiations involving the Rippers would be taking a while.

Two hours later, Remy was almost asleep when Jean Luc slipped into the study, slowly lowering himself into the large black office chair behind the desk. He steepled his fingers, staring at Remy with a cool, detached look.

"Ah take it ya got somethin' figured out?" Remy asked after a few minutes of silence. Jean Luc sighed loudly.

"What were ya thinkin', Remy? Tryin' ta steal from the Rippers?" he said, some of his earlier anger returning.

"Now, pere, Ah swear Ah didn' know that guy was a Ripper, Ah was just lookin' fo-"

"Ah don' care what you were lookin' fo', Remy." Jean Luc interrupted, holding his head in his hands and sighing again. "Ya don' accidentally steal from the Rippers."

"Apparently that's jus' an added bonus ta mah mutation." Remy retorted, getting fed up.

"Don' sass me, boy. Do ya know how long it took me ta convince Marius that we weren't tryin' ta get in on some weapons deal they pullin'? The sacrifice Ah made to save yer sorry hide?" Jean Luc yelled, slamming a fist on the sturdy oak desk in front of him.

"Ah woulda gotten out eventually." Remy muttered, slouching in his seat and looking away from his adoptive father. Jean Luc groaned in frustration.

"Can ya be even more spoiled?" he yelled. "Ya disappear fo' two days, leave no note, got yer Tante Mattie and the rest o' us all riled up cause we ain't got no idea where ya are-"

"Ah had some business to take care of. Mutant kind." Remy said, his gaze sparkling in his rising anger.

"Ah don' want that crap after Ah just spent two hours arguing with Marius!" Jean Luc said furiously, his hands turning into fists.

"Well, what was the final decision? How much was mah freedom worth, eh?" Remy asked, knowing that odds are, there would be money involved. Jean Luc was silent for a moment.

"Marius and Ah have reached a decision." he said, then paused.

"Obviously." Remy said, annoyed. Jean Luc sighed again, but this time it sounded more tired than frustrated.

"We've decided that we need to form a truce. A way to combine our families and end this nonsense."

"Ya seriously reached that kind o' decision 'cause Ah accidentally picked the wrong pocket?" Remy asked incredulously.

"Neither one of us want any mo' deaths, boy." Jean Luc muttered ominously.

"So, what's this 'combinin'' entail? Do Ah gotta become BFF's with Julien?" he asked sarcastically. Jean Luc was silent for a moment.

"Marius has got a daughter that's about yer age..." he said quietly, leaving the sentence hanging, waiting for Remy to fill in the blinks. The younger man's eyes widened in realization.

"No, pere, ya don' mean..." he couldn't even say the statement out loud.

"Marius and Ah agree that perhaps a...union...between the two of you would be an honorable way to form a treaty, truce, and bond between the two guilds all in one go."

Remy swore loudly, standing up. "Yer kiddin' me, right? Ya just expectin' me ta take one fo' the team and get _married_?!"

"It's either that, o' ya dead. And Ah don't fancy killin' ya." Jean Luc replied shortly. "Yer wedding planning starts tomorrow. Ah suggest ya go get some sleep."

"Like hel-"

"Boy, that's code fo' _get outta my office_." Jean Luc said, struggling to keep himself under control. Remy clamped his mouth shut, turning and taking three long strides to the door. Even in all his anger, the theif within him didn't allow to slam the door shut. He stalked through the hallways, anger seething through him. He spotted the kitchen light on, and became fully intent on banishing whoever was in there before eating Jean Luc LeBeau out of house and home.

"Remy! Ya ok?" Mercy asked, here crystal blue eyes wide as she took in the sight of him. His brother's insomniac wife was perched on the kitchen counter, clutching a mug of tea.

"Not hardly, Mercy." Remy said, not able to bring himself to throw the innocent blonde out of the kitchen. Instead, he collapsed into a chair at the table and laid his head down with a resigned sigh.

"Well look at ya, yer a right mess! What happened?" she asked, the mass of curls piled on top of her head swaying ominously as she jumped down from the counter and came over to him. She began examining the cut on his temple, looking for any other obvious injuries.

"Ah went out fo' gumbo and came back engaged." Remy said shortly, waving her off. She stood back, sticking out her hip and crossing her arms across her chest.

"Well serves ya right, disappearin' and all without even callin' or leavin' a note-" she started on him.

"Mercy, please." Remy interrupted with a tired moan. "Please, just...not now."

Mercy's eyes softened, her arms falling and hanging limply by her sides. "Sorry, Remy. Ya know how Ah get carried away sometimes." she said softly. Remy sighed.

"Ah know. Ah'm sorry fo' snappin'. It's just been kind of a long three days." he said, laying his head down on his arms. He heard Mercy moving around the kitchen, gathering something. They were both silent. A few minutes later, Mercy placed a plate in front of him, a large sandwich sitting in the middle of it. He looked up at her, and she began cleaning the blood off of his face.

"Thanks, Mercy." he said softly, wincing as her hand ran over the bruise on his temple.

"What kind o' sistah-in-law would Ah be if Ah let ya wallow in yer own filth, starving?" she replied, and he smiled. "Don' think this means yer off the hook, cause yer not. But since it's been a long day, Ah let it slide 'til tomorrow mornin'."

"Dieu, what did Henri do to snag such an amazing woman as you?" Remy asked lightly.

"Sold his soul to the devil." Mercy replied automatically, cleaning the last bit of blood off his face. She turned away, dumping the paper towels in the garbage. "G'night, Remy."

"'Night, Mercy." he replied. She turned and left the kitchen, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and a turkey sandwich.

--

(1) - reference to RHAPAW (Rode Hard And Put Away Wet), a Buick in John Green's "Paper Towns" that ran completely on the "inexhaustible fuel of human hope."

well, how did you like it? let me know! the next chapter should be up...soon...ish.....anyway, leave a review!


	2. Chapter 2

thank you for the three reviewers! y'all rock my face! now to the rest of y'all who favorited and alerted this story - please leave a review, even if it's just a few words. tell me what you like. tell me what you don't like. tell me what you wish would happen. tell me when your birthday is. whatever! just give me some feedback, please!

this chapter is dedicated to christie and yugoma, my first two reviewers, and then EXTRA dedicated to 898700, who was kind enough to point out a bit of a miscommunication between my brain and my story!

for those of you who care about soundtracks and such, most of this chapter was written to my zz top playlist on pandora, as well as some 3OH!3 (namely "i'm not your boyfriend baby" and "starstrukk"), my guilty pleasure.

The quote, again, is from Joseph Heller's Catch-22.

--

_**The brother was looking for a fight.**_

--

Remy liked to think he believed in God. After all, he was a good Southern boy, and good Southern boys grew up to be good Southern Baptist men. He thought the whole "mutation" thing was like a cracker jack surprise that the good Lord put in his DNA, and was made up for by his dashing good looks and incredible athletic prowess. However, in light of recent events, Remy couldn't help but wonder if maybe God was a bit of a practical joker. That would be the only explanation as to why these things just kept happening to him.

He quickly finished off the turkey sandwich Mercy had made, rinsing off the dish and making another one for on the go. He polished the second one off before he had even reached the door. He welcomed the stifling humidity of the warm summer night, as it made his slow trek back to his apartment feel like a relaxing walk in a sauna. It was somewhere around one in the morning, and the streets were utterly empty. Remy felt his existence fade in and out with the spots of light given by the street lamps. His mind was overwhelmed with everything that had happened between meeting Logan in the gambling club to his apparent engagement, and he longed for nothing more than to wake up from this whirlwind of a dream and go on living his life as usual.

His anger suddenly flared, only to be taken out on a random can that was grabbed, charged, and thrown into the air, exploding like a firework above the empty road. How could his life spin out of control so quickly? One minute, he was a normal twenty-one year old, doing his best to live fast and die young. And now...

Now, he was a human truce. Thanks to him and this unnamed, faceless Ripper, many feuding lives would be saved. Only at the expense of two. Sure, he was a thief and all, but really, what had he done to deserve being tied down to a woman that he had never known, and didn't love?

To top it all off, he had lost his lucky fedora!

Remy shook his head to clear it. He was weary of thinking of this. Besides, someone was following him. Actually, it was four someones. He smirked - they were really awful at the whole "sneaking" thing - and led them down the wandering New Orleans street, doing his best to go relatively near his apartment without taking them to it. After all, he was in no mood to entertain house guests right now. Another half mile passed, and Remy got tired of the charade. He took a sharp right into an ally, and waited.

Not thirty seconds later, four men came wandering into the ally, looking about. The ally dead ended about fifty feet in front of them, yet all they could see was a large dumpster and a bum asleep in the corner.

"Where'd 'e go?" the first man, a big and burly man with dark hair, said, looking dumbly around the empty area.

"What do ya mean, 'where'd he go'? We were following him in here!" a wiry blond said.

"Sorreh, Julien, Ah coulda sworn 'e-"

"He had to go in here, Julien. There's no other place for him to go." a small, dark man said very quickly. His dark, beady eyes shifted restlessly around the empty area.

Remy decided that that was enough of teasing the boys. He reached into his back pocket, taking out one of the few cards he had left. His eyes flashed crimson as he charged it. He tossed it precisely over the ledge of the building he was sitting on, watching it float down towards the group. The light of the card caught their eyes, and they too watched with furrowed eyebrows and cocked heads as the card continued its descent. They seemed mesmerized by the flickering object, coming to meet it as it landed on the pavement. It sparkled for a moment, just long enough for the men to realize that it was a jack of spades, before exploding in a blast so monumentous that the drunk bum in the corner snorted awake.

As the four Rippers nursed their minor burns and coughed out the smoke, Remy used his bo staff to fly down to the group, smirking all the while. He waited for the smoke to clear to truly make his presence known.

"Ah see you got mah callin' card (1)." he said cheekily as his opponents continued to choke on the smoke. His smile widened - he could see their eyes watering from here.

"Listen, LeBeau," Julien said, stepping forward. "We got some unfinished business."

"If we gon' fight, it's gon' be fair, _homme_. Got it?" Remy said seriously. This was just what he needed - just another thing to go down tonight. "That means no shotguns, no cards, and no minions."

"Hey, I'm not-" the beady eyed man started to defend himself, but was silent at Julien's raised hand.

"So you mean, you'll put down those little 'splosives, and Ah'll put down this here Magnum Ah got in my belt, and we'll try to kill each other like civilized people (2)?" Julien asked, a glint in his eye.

"Exactly." Remy responded, smiling and leaning against his bo staff. "Ah'll even put down my fancy stick he'e."

Julien's eyes narrowed as he stared Remy down. "Ya got a deal."

"But Julien-" Big and Beefy cut in, but was also silenced by The Hand.

"It's ok, boys. Ah'll be alright." Julien's voice was steady, but Remy could practically feel the fear radiating off of him. Everyone in that ally (besides the drunken bum, who was already back asleep) knew that Julien was no match for Gambit. They hoped that somewhere, Julien had some tricks up his sleeves, because otherwise Remy was going to be sorely disappointed and his goonies were going to have a lot of explaining to do.

"He'e that boys? That means ya gotta give us some room." Remy said, flipping his hand casually as if he were shooing away a fly. The men did not take well to this gesture, but a look from Julien silenced them into obedience. Julien took out the gun, showing it to Remy before going to put it down.

"See? No gun." he sneered, going to toss it off to the side.

"Nu uh, boy. Gimme the ammo." Remy said, beckoning him with his hand. Julien rolled his eyes.

"What? Ya think Ah'm gonna grab it in the middle of the fight?" he said, frustrated.

"No, but yer boys might think about it." Remy said, leaning over and cheekily waving to Julien's buddies. He had no doubt that Julien's men had guns of their own, but it was the first thing he thought of. Having some bullets in his back pocket would make for a nice contingency plan. Julien himself gritted his teeth, pulling out the magazine of the gun before tossing the empty gun off to the side.

"Ya really think Ah'm gonna give ya mah bullets when yer packin' some sort of firepower?" Julien said, still clenching the magazine in his long, pale fingers. Remy was confused, but then realized that he must be talking about the card. Remy almost smiled, as apparently his mutation was little known and therefore, to be used to his advantage. He instead tossed the mostly empty package of cards off to the side, as well as the small lighter that he had lifted off his adoptive father for fun before he left the Guild house not an hour before. The bo staff was added to the pile, and Remy held up his hands in a declaration of cleanliness.

"No' mo'. Now ya wanna hand those suckers over?" he held out a hand expectantly, and with a sigh of frustration, Julien tossed it over.

Oh, yes. Mutation could definitely be used to its advantage.

"Ok, can we please get goin' now?" Julien said, nearly trembling in anticipation. Remy smiled, beckoning him again. With a roar that was a bit too big for his wiry body, Julien launched himself at Remy, immediately throwing punches at lightening speed. Remy blocked them easily - Julien had some speed on his side, but he was sloppy. He tried to throw a right hook, which was easily blocked by Remy. A hastily thrown left hook was also blocked. A 1-2 combo met nothing but Remy's forearms, Julien's flying fists of fury coming no where near Remy's obnoxiously smirking face.

"Fight back!" Julien yelled once he realized Remy was staying on the defensive. Remy could almost feel the anger coming off Julien in waves, and so decided to humor him, immediately landing a punch in the other man's side, and another on his face. A roundhouse kick to the face sent Julien stumbling back, blood dripping from his split lip. He reached up, gently touching the area, admiring the way the blood shone on his hand in the light of the streetlamp.

"Ya had enough playtime?" Remy asked tiredly. It was getting late, and he wasn't lying when he said he had Grey's Anatomy on the Tivo. To his dismay, Julien began to chuckle. That was never a good sign.

"Ya think yer such a man, don'tcha, LeBeau? Can't believe mah sistah is marryin' the likes o' you." Julien said, accenting this shot by spitting out a mouthful of blood. Remy could feel his face drain.

_Marius has got a daughter that's about yer age_...since when did Marius have a daughter? And, more importantly, why didn't Remy know about her?

"Well, crap." Remy said, his Southern lilt drawing the word out. "Never really put those two togethah. Guess this li'l tiff is between _freres_, now ain't it?" he said with a smirk.

"We'll nevah be brothahs." Julien said darkly, visibly shaking in anger.

"Tell me, bro," Remy started. "is mah future wife hot? Should Ah budget in a lot o' money for lingerie?"

"Stop it, LeBeau." Julien said lowly.

"Is she blonde like you? Ah've always kinda had a thing for blondes. They really do have more fun." he said suggestively.

"Shut up, LeBeau." Julien said with a warning in his voice.

"Oh, does she got a big ol' booty? Those really are mah weakness. Don' get me wrong, Ah love a nice rack just like any other man - she got one o' those by the way? - but really, when it comes down to it, Ah'm a booty man mahself." Remy continued, his smile getting bigger the angrier Julien got.

"Ah said SHUT UP!" Julien yelled. His croonies, dumbstruck by the banter, could only watch as Julien launched himself at Remy with renewed fervor, aiming for the other man's jugular. Remy blocked the first few shots, but had to take a couple to the rib cage before he was able to roughly knee Julien in the stomach, quickly dropping an elbow to the back of his neck. He grabbed Julien's head, bringing his face down onto his knee with a rather satisfying crack. He ignored the blood splatter on his jeans, choosing instead to take notice of the three distinctive _clicks_ of guns in front of him. Before any of the other Ripper guys could shoot, he roughly grabbed Julien's shoulders, hoisting the other man up as a human shield.

"Don' shoot!" Julien gasped out, blood flowing freely out of his nose and over his mouth. "Don' shoot!" His men, not knowing what to do, just stood there with their guns raised in Remy's (and consequencely, Julien's) direction.

"Tell 'em to put 'em down." Remy whispered in Julien's ear.

"Put 'em down." Julien said through gritted teeth. The men, unsure, looked to one another in confusion. "Ah said put yer dang guns down!" With that, the guns were lowered.

"Tell 'em to toss 'em ovah he'e." Remy said softly.

"Put 'em over here." Julien said, face red with anger and chagrin. The boys slid the guns over, and Remy kicked them behind him.

"Now, boys, in a second Ah'm gonna toss yer leader here back over to ya. Then, you're gonna take him, clean him up, and go back home, _d'accord_? Ah don't want y'all tryin' ta start somethin' cause otherwise yer gonna end up worse than this mess." Remy said, gesturing to Julien. He reached an arm around Julien's neck with just enough pressure to let him know not to try anything funny, and with the other hand, he reached into his back pocket, silently loosing one of the bullets from its hold. When everything was still and all the men had agreed (even if Remy didn't trust it one bit), he let Julien go, roughly (and quickly) shoving him towards the group. Big and Beefy caught him, but the shady character with the beady eyes whipped out a switchblade instead, the quiet _click_ echoing through the night air. Remy met the man's disturbingly dark eyes just before the knife was thrown in his direction. He was unable to dodge the knife, letting out a gasp of pain as it sank into his right shoulder. He charged the bullet in his fingers, flinging it left handed to the pavement right in the middle of the circle. He quickly ran, grabbing his bo staff and sprinting towards the back of the ally, leaping onto the garbage bin just as the bullet exploded with rather impressive firepower. He did not stop to see the after-effects of the explosion, leaping onto a nearby rooftop and running in the direction of his apartment. He pulled the knife out of his shoulder, grimacing as pain shot down his entire arm and up his neck. He tossed it off to the side, leaping onto the next roof. He slid down a fire escape, running through the back roads towards his apartment whilst trying to control the blood flowing out of his shoulder. The erratic pounding of his heart was not helping.

By the time Remy was trudging up the stairs to his apartment, he was more than a little lightheaded from injuries and exhaustion. He had ripped his t-shirt in order to try and stem the flow of blood from his knife wound, but it was already beginning to seep through. It took him a couple tries to unlock the door, as his vision was getting a little blurry from his tired eyes. Once the door was open, he stumbled in, shutting the door and locking all three locks that his door held. The coffee machine was immediately flipped on, bubbling and brewing as Remy went searching for his Thieve's first aid kit. He tossed the black leather bag on the kitchen counter, waiting impatiently for the cup of coffee to be made. Once the machine beeped, he poured himself a mug, downing the scalding liquid in one go. Sure, mild burns on your tongue hurt, but a knife wound hurt a heck of a lot more.

Remy felt much more awake now that the caffeine was coursing through his system, and he poured himself another cup before moving the first aid kit to the island in the middle of his kitchen, opening it and pulling out the necessary supplies to sew himself up, as well as stop the bloodflow. He sat himself down on a stool, organizing his supplies and going through the process in his head once. Antiseptic was applied, as Remy did not desire an infection in any way. He tore open a package of QuikClot (3), carefully dumping the grainy, black substance on his shoulder. Whatever was in that sterile, medical package sure did a number on the slice, making Remy groan loudly as a rip-roaring fire flew through his entire arm. Oh, the price you pay to staunch bleeding. Once the QuikClot had worked its magic, Remy was able to open a sterile stitching needle and some surgical thread, actually threading the needle with a bit of difficulty. He didn't bother with any local anaesthetic, allowing the needle to bite into his skin over and over until he had the cut laced up like a corset. He added another swipe of antiseptic before placing gauze over the wound, attaching it with surgical tape. With his amateur medical work finished, Remy was able to lean his head down on the island, resting just for a moment. He felt himself beginning to doze, so he took a couple Advil with the last bit of his coffee, then stumbled towards his bedroom. By three in the morning, Remy was finally able to (carefully) collapse on his bed, fully clothed, and enter a tumultuous sleep.

--

The first thing Remy did when he awoke late that morning was vow to himself that he was going to buy dark, thick curtains and transform his bedroom into a cave. The second thing he vowed was to change the ringtone on his phone to something less...ear splitting. Or better yet, turn the sucker off and cut off all contact from the world. This seemed a very appealing idea at the moment. However, he knew that whatever trouble he was in would only grow worse if he didn't man up and answer the phone.

"'Lo?" Remy asked groggily into the device, not bothering to check the caller ID. The response he received was a long string of curses, both in English and French, but Remy chose to try and blow the unruly bangs out of his eyes instead of listen until the end of the string.

"...WHERE ARE YA?!" the engraged voice demanded of him.

"No need to swear so much. Ah'm in bed, Henri, where normal people are at this hour." Remy practically whispered to his adoptive brother.

"At this hour? Boy, ya do realize it's nearly noon?!" Henri demanded.

"Thank ya fo' alertin' me. Call back at three." Remy replied.

"Oh, no, brothah. Ya gotta get ovah he'e now. Jean Luc' 'bout to have a huge ol' litter o' kittens if you ain't he'e soon." Henri said, rushed.

"What does that ol' fogie want with me now?" Remy whined, flopping over onto his back and painfully reminding himself of his knifed shoulder.

"It ain't what Father wants," Henri said in a frustrated tone. "Yer wife is gonna be he'e soon."

"Mah wife...?" Remy asked, more to himself than Henri. The last night's events suddenly clicked into place in his head, causing him to moan loudly and for an extended period of time. "Crap!" A few more curses were added after that.

"Look Remy, Ah don't care what her mother do and where she do it, Ah'm just tryin' ta look out fo' ya. Ya need to get down here...now." Henri said in a hushed tone, which was a giveaway that someone relatively important had come into the nearby vicinity.

"Ok. Gimme ten minutes." Remy said, hanging up and tossing the phone off to the side. He laid in bed for a moment longer, mentally preparing himself for the day and all that it would entail. He sat up, hiding in his long hair, and continued to mentally prepare himself. This was good, he coached himself. He was sitting up, so surely that meant that in a minute he would be able to actually stand, and then change clothes, and then go meet his fiancee for the first time. Easy breezy.

Remy's promised ten minutes had long sinced passed by the time he reached the gates to the Guild house. As he walked down the long cobblestone driveway, he suddenly felt like Hercules about to take on his twelve labors (4). He also found himself wishing he could take on those twelve labors, as anything else would be better than picking out floral arrangements that weren't too flashy but not too small that also managed to match the table cloths which needed to match the invitations and also the bridesmaid dresses...

Remy shuddered in realization of the pains that he was about to go through.

The door creaked open ominously, but the house was quiet. Apparently he had arrived before his wife and her entourage. Or everyone had killed each other, which was just as likely a possibility.

He found Jean Luc and Henri in the parlor, each sitting in the solace of his own thoughts. Henri's eyes flitted to his to acknowledge his presence, but he soon returned to the notepad in front of him, calculating figures for something or another. Jean Luc's cold blue eyes followed Remy's every move, settling with him on the couch next to Henri, who duly pretended to not notice the thick tension that was choking every occupant in the room. The clock on the mantle ticked on dutifully, counting down every second to Remy's impending doom. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he was being just a little too dramatic about the whole thing. After all, Henri loved married life with Mercy. Maybe Remy could get that lucky too.

A heavy knocking sounded at the front door, one of the other Guild members answering it promptly. There was a low murmur of voices as certain things were discussed, then a distinct sound of weapons being removed. The group moved towards the parlor, and Remy could easily pick out the staccato sound of stilettos clicking along the tile floor amidst the heavy thuds of boots. Four shady looking Ripper characters entered first, obviously preceeding the star of the show. Belladonna Budreaux entered the room with a flourish of fashion and style, her clearly designer dress standing out against the cheap suits that her body guards were in. Remy took on look at her and felt his jaw unhinge.

Tall. Tanned. Toned.

Oh, yes. He could definitely get that lucky.

Large sunglasses were removed, gold bracelets jangling as they were placed amidst the perfect blonde waves on the top of her head. She flipped the long waves over her shoulder and fixated an intense stare on Remy, an impatient gleam in her electric blue eyes. Remy could feel himself drifting off to cloud nine.

"Well?" she asked, drawing the word out. "Ya not gonna stand fo' a lady enterin'?"

That brought Remy crashing back down to earth.

"Sorry, wasn't aware Ah was in the presence of a queen." he responded flippantly, heaving himself to his feet.

"Miss Budreaux," Jean Luc stopped the fight before it could happen. "Always a pleasure. This is my adopted son Remy LeBeau."

She held out one perfectly manicured hand to Remy, who quickly kissed the back of her palm, purposefully letting his day old stubble scratch against her knuckles. If she felt any revulsion at the slight act, she held it in gracefully.

"Remy," Jean Luc continued. "this is Belladonna."

Remy nodded, his hazel eyes never leaving her blue ones. The awkward pressure became too much for Henri, who quietly exited.

"Ah'll just...leave you two alone." Jean Luc said slowly. "Y'all got a lot ta talk about." He exited after his son. Remy, with a roll of his eyes, collapsed back on the couch, slouching unattractively. Belladonna turned to her body guards.

"Leave us." she said, adding in a few snaps for dramatic effect. The men nodded, filing out of the parlor like little lapdogs being sent to the pound. Belladonna closed the door softly, then proceeded to whirl around and fixate that stare on Remy again. She took two long strides to stand right in front of his collapsed form, placing her hands on her hips in what was obviously her power stance.

"Yes, darlin'?" Remy asked cheekily.

"Listen he'e, Remy," Belladonna said darkly. "Ah'm gonna say this, and Ah'm only gonna say this once. When it comes to this union he'e, you are gonna stay out of mah way. You do what Ah say, when Ah say. _D'accord_?"

"Listen he'e, Bella. May Ah call ya Bella?" Remy asked, standing up so that they were in uncomfortably close proximity.

"No." she responded shortly.

"Bella, Ah don't want this any more than you do." Remy said, capturing her eyes with his own intense stare. "So you do the wedding how evah ya want it. When it comes down to it, ya can have as many affairs as ya want, cause Ah sure am. If occasionally you can't resist me, Ah won't be opposed to you either. Neither one of us wants this, so naturally we will be more capable than the average couple at making this work."

Belladonna smiled, tracing her fingertips along Remy's jaw. "Oh, Remy. What great thoughts." she said softly. Her gaze suddenly chilled, her lips hardening into a tough line. She threw a knee into Remy's groin, then dropped a bony elbow on the back of his neck, making sure to leave a bruise. Remy gasped in pain, collapsing uncontrollably on the couch behind him. He just couldn't win lately.

"Let's get one thing strait, Remy LeBeau." Belladonna said, standing over him like a great and terrible beauty (5), her face condescending as if she had not possibly just ruined Remy's chances of one day having seven little LeBeau's running around. "If we're gonna get married, Ah am goin' ta be faithful, as are you. Ah don' know what delusion ya got in yer head, but this is not a paper marriage. Yer going to play the part of husband, and yer gonna like it. Some might consider this a bit...demanding. Are you one of those people?" she gave room for answer, but Remy was still unable to form a coherent response. She smiled. "That's what Ah thought. Now, let's get to plannin' our wedding, shall we?" she said sweetly, sitting down on the couch next to him and crossing her legs. "Ah was thinkin' that we should have it in June. Ah just love that early summer heat..."

Oh, how lucky one man could be.

--

1 - direct quote from the later cartoons, X-Men: Evolution, only Remy was coming to beat up the Brotherhood, not a bunch of random Rippers.  
2 - not a direct quote, but you should know that it is inspired from a line by Fezzik in the fantastic movie "The Princess Bride." prepare for that movie to be quoted a lot in this story.

3 - i don't know if this product is actually real, it was just used by mark wahlberg in _Shooter_ to staunch the flow of some bullet wounds.  
4 - in mythology, Hercules was set to perform twelve tasks in penance.  
5 - the title of a book by Libba Bray, as well as a line from Yeats' "Easter, 1916".

alright, for those of you who did not grow up in the south and therefore do not know the southern drawl well and good, you should know that when southerners get upset, each word they say automatically gets at least one extra syllable due to drawl time. accepting this fact with make your reading experience more enjoyable.

well, i hope that y'all enjoyed the second installment of this! please leave some love and tell me what you thought!

~XM


	3. Chapter 3

hey y'all! so...kinda disappointed on the whole "review" front, but i know how obnoxious it is when authors say that so...just enjoy the new chapter. i'm sorry it took so long to get out - i'm kind of starting to get into the whole "getting ready for college" thing. hopefully it will come faster next time.

guess where the quote's from? Joseph Keller's Catch-22!

--

_**Yossarian wrinkled his forehead with quizzical amusement. "You won't marry me because I'm crazy, and you say I'm crazy because I want to marry you? Is that right?"**_

--

"Good mornin', sunshine." Belladonna drawled as Remy borderline limped into the sunny parlor of the Belladonna's apartment. The limp was more for dramatic effect, but Remy couldn't lie by saying that he didn't have to go home and put a little ice on his wound. Belladonna may have been a slender person, but she could sure pack a wallop with those bony little knees and elbows.

"Mornin', darlin'." Remy responded only slightly sarcastically. He sat down across from her with a groan, running a hand through his long hair and settling into a comfortable slouch.

"Ya okay, there?" Belladonna asked the obligatory question without even looking up from the bridal magazine she was perusing.

"Ah'll live. Ya kinda cut me a good one yesterday, Bella." Remy said with a smirk, reaching over and grabbing a magazine that she had already gone through, taking note of the post-its marking things she liked.

"Sorry about that." she said shortly, not even sparing him a glance.

"Look, Bella-"

"Donna." she interrupted.

"What?"

"If yer gonna call me by a name other than my full birth name, call me Donna. Bella sounds like a whimsical character from a novel." she explained, glancing up to make sure he was paying attention to what she was saying.

"Well then, _Donna_," he began again, stressing her name. "Ah think we got off on a bit of the wrong foot. Maybe we should start over again, eh?"

He met her icy blue gaze as she surveyed him, thinking through the proposition. She crossed one long, tanned leg over the other, finally putting down the magazine and giving him her attention. She tapped perfectly painted plum nails against the glass of the table, still mulling over what Remy thought was a simple question. He subconsciously noticed that she hadn't blinked the entire time she had been looking at him.

"Look, Ah'm not sayin' that we need ta be fallin' in love or anythin', just that...maybe we can be friends, non?" he continued when she offered nothing in response but silence. "After all, gotta be easier to marry a friend than an enemy."

She _hmph_ed, sitting up strait and fixating a stare on him. "And how do ya suppose we go about doin' that, hmm?"

Remy was silent for a moment, shocked at the response. Why did this woman have to be so difficult? "Well, Ah don't know, chere," he said sarcastically. "let's go on a date. Ah hear they're all the rage with people that are gettin' married."

One side of her mouth quirked in mild amusement. She was not used to having an opponent, only minions. "Ah suppose that'll work. Tonight at eight o'clock it is, then." she said, flipping the magazine back open.

"What if Ah'm busy tonight?" Remy said, attempting to salvage his slowly waning manhood by rebelling.

"Yer not anymore." Donna said with a hint of amusement, tapping her finger against her lips in thought.

"Well geeze, chere, ya even gonna tell me where we're goin'?" he asked hotly. She lifted her gaze back to him, a feux befuddled expression on her face.

"Ah thought that was the man's job, Remy." she asked sweetly. "Why would ya ever expect me to decide such a thing?"

"'Cause everything's gotta be on yer terms." Remy said, his frustration growing. He wasn't so sure about his idea now.

"Now now, Remy, Ah don't think Ah'm a controllin' kind of girl." she said, clearly enjoying his frustration.

"Careful, chere, yer nose is gettin' longer." Remy teased, buying into her game. She leveled her gaze at him, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Ah'll see you at eight." she said in a dismissive tone, once again turning back to her magazines and post-its. Her cell phone dinged, so she reached over and picked it up, choosing her text message over Remy.

"Ya don't want mah help for anythin'?" Remy asked politely.

"No thanks." Donna said without looking up. "While Ah'm sure yer an excellent weddin' planner, Ah've got it covered for now."

"Just tell me when and where." Remy replied with his own smirk. "Ah'll see ya later tonight - and dress for a night on the town, eh? None of this riff-raff." he said sarcastically, gesturing to her designer jeans and sleeveless top. Her blonde locks were contained by an elastic and fell curling down to her shoulder blades. Even when she wasn't all dolled up to the nine's, Remy couldn't help but admit that she was gorgeous.

"Goodbye, Remy." Donna said with a hint of laughter in her tone. This was good, Remy thought to himself. It seemed like maybe they could get along after all.

He let himself out of her apartment, loping down the stairs and into the boiling New Orleans heat outside. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, whistling tunelessly as he ambled through the streets. He had no job, and therefore absolutely nothing to do. What did normal people do with their time?

His musings were cut short as his cell phone buzzed in his back pocket, his caller ID warning him that Jean Luc was calling. A sigh escaped his lips as he flipped the phone open. It was going to be a peaceful day.

"Sharky's pool hall, Eight Ball speaking." Remy said flippantly.

"Cut the crap, Remy." Jean Luc said, causing Remy to sigh sarcastically to himself. Jean Luc never seemed to be amused by Remy's humor.

"What is it that you are in need of, oh fabulous father of mine?" Remy said, ignoring the tired frustration given by Jean Luc.

"Ah said cut the crap, Remy. And yer adopted." Jean Luc retorted.

"Love you too." Remy said in a sing-song voice. Was it sad that antagonizing his adoptive father happened to be one of his favorite pass-times?

"Ah've got a job fer ya." Jean Luc cut in. Remy stopped walking, throwing his head back and his gaze Heavenward.

"Please tell me yer kiddin'." Remy groaned.

"Boy, do Ah sound like Ah'm kiddin'?!" Jean Luc said angrily.

"But it's the middle of the day." Remy said. "Why're we doin' a job in broad daylight?"

"Cause it's at a place that only opens at night." Jean Luc replied.

"Well, Ah've got a date tonight. Ah can't go." Remy tried that approach.

"Ah don't care. The job's to be done durin' the day." was the clipped reply.

"Make Henri do it." was Remy's last flailing attempt.

"Henri worked a job last night, while some one else was dealing with his new fiancee."

"Sorry. Spent the night tryin' ta re-raise mah sperm count." Remy said sarcastically. Even with the cautious, unspoken truce between him and Belladonna, he was still bitter that she had crotch-shotted him.

"Ah don't wanna hear about yer sex life, boy." Jean Luc quipped.

"We didn't...ah, nevermind." Remy said, giving up before his defense even started. "What do ya need me ta do?"

"Ya know that little astronomy tower out there close ta the Blue Moon Bayou?" Jean Luc asked.

"Yea." Remy replied. He did know it - it was the place of many of his high school dates and the place where he had almost lost his virginity.

"Well, they got this special stone that apparently was taken from the moon or Mars or something of that nature. Worth a lot of money. Ah need ya ta go ahead and grab that for me." Jean Luc said it nonchalantly, as if Remy wasn't committing a federal offense or anything.

"Yer a little vague on the details. What happened to all that research ya normally do?" Remy asked. Perhaps if he could find reasonable doubt, he could get out of doing the job.

"It's not fer me, it's fer a...client."

"Ya don' sound too sure 'bout that."

"Remy, just go and get the darn stone, wouldja? An' make it quick - there's lots of people wantin' this stone. Lots of powerful, dangerous people." Jean Luc's patience finally ran out.

"Like the mafia?" Remy asked, feigning shock and awe.

"Boy, Ah'm not gonna say it again..." he warned.

"Aye, aye, captain. Ah'll have it for ya by two o'clock." Remy hung up without waiting for an answer. When his phone didn't vibrate again in the next thirty seconds, he figured that the timing would be satisfactory with Jean Luc. He glanced at his watch, noting that it was almost eleven o'clock. One last self-pitying sigh and Remy traipsed back to his apartment to gather his gear. A thick manilla envelope was taped to his door, welcoming him with it's blank cover and bountiful amount of contained information. He unlocked the door, tossing the manilla envelope on the kitchen island as soon as he walked in, choosing to make an early lunch before preparing. Procrastination was one of his other favorite pass-times.

Once a satisfactory lunch was prepared (he was slightly disappointed at how long it didn't take him to make it), he sat on the stool at the island and spread out the contents of the manilla envelope. There was a map detailing the layout of the tower, another showing where the stone was being kept, and another showing where various security details, such as cameras, were placed. A typed sheet of paper told him about the guard shifts, the door locks, the security alarms, and how exactly the stone was protected. Seemed this one would be simple as pie.

Remy always felt awkward slipping into his Guild-issued sneak suit, as he generally made it a rule that spandex was not the best fashion choice. The only problem was, it was a very good fabric when it came to sneaking...anywhere. He squeezed into the black pants, putting a deck of cards in the back pocket. He shouldn't have to use them, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. The long sleeved UnderArmour shirt stretched over his muscles, fitting perfectly. A small utility belt was strapped to his waist, some black boots slipped onto his feet, and Remy was ready to go.

Getting to the place was easy enough - the Guild had a tan, nondescript car parked in the allyway behind his apartment, and the area surrounding the tower was virtually empty. No one noticed as he parked the car in the shade about a block away from the tower, or as he slipped out and ran into the shady brush, effectively hiding him from the untrained human eye. The one guard circling the area leading to the backdoor was taken out easily with a flick from Remy's bo staff, down before he could even realize what was going on. Remy slipped on a mask and some black gloves, entering the access code to the building without leaving any fingerprints. He pulled the door open, being careful to stay behind it so that the camera a few feet in wouldn't spy him as he broke into and entered the facility. He took off one of the gloves, reaching back and grabbing a card out of his pocket. He charged it, his eyes flashing red for a moment, then released the card into the hallway, smirking in self-satisfaction as he heard it make contact with the camera. Entrance covered.

The security system of the Louisiana Astronomy Center was not very tough. In fact, Remy was a bit disappointed with the lack of challenge - he had had more difficulty breaking into elementary school buildings than this one. He slinked down the hallway, mindful of the sparse cameras scattered throughout the ways. He was able to slip into the room where the rock was held via the back, employees-only entrance, right underneath the one camera watching the room. He stretched one arm up, barely brushing his fingers against the wires connected to the camera, charging them and effectively rendering the camera useless. Easy peasy.

Now it came down to the actual thievery. The rock in question was in a glass box in the center of the room, protected by a key lock and number pad, both of which needed to be undone in order to grab the thing. Remy couldn't deny that it was a rather pretty rock - dark green and blue, and rather sparkly. Picking the lock was easy enough - he'd done that even before he was professionally trained - but the keypad would be another problem. The code was changed hourly, and so certain technology would have to be used.

The normal lock came first, considering unlocking this would remove the restraints holding the glass cover to the pedestal. Remy grabbed his tools out of his belt, kneeling so that he was at eye level with the lock. As he began to insert the first of the rods, he heard a soft scratching noise coming from the ceiling. Thinking it was just a rat, he quickly and deftly picked the lock securing the glass case. He pulled out a small machine, carefully hooking it up properly to the keypad lock. It whirred to life, blinking for a moment before going off with a soft ding, announcing that the code was cracked. He quickly disconnected the machine, replacing it in his belt, adding in his lock-picking tools. He stood up to his full height, replacing his gloves in order to limit traces. Just as he was beginning to remove the glass box cover, a ceiling tile was lifted, revealing the inky blackness beyond. Remy stopped, hands hovering over the glass, and watched through his mask as - presumably - another thief swung out into the room, feet landing square on Remy's chest and knocking him back. He stumbled back into the wall, groaning and rubbing his torso.

"You've done all mah work for me." the other thief, now identified as a woman, said with a chuckle. She too was in all black, covered completely. She carefully placed hands on either side of the box as Remy rose to his feet, quite upset. He absolutely detested when people crashed his jobs.

"Yea, well, gentleman does what he can for a lady." he said sarcastically, rushing towards the figure. She threw the glass in his direction, and he was forced to redirect his path, attempting instead to catch the glass before it crashed to the ground and shattered. Cleanliness was Remy's specialty when it came to pulling a job. Once the glass case was placed in a corner where it wouldn't get hurt, Remy could turn back to the task at hand. The other thief was hard at work removing the stone from its perch without hurting it, giving Remy the necessary distraction to flying tackle the smaller person. He quickly rolled off, attempting to get back to the stone first. The other thief flipped back onto her feet with an impressive wave motion, immediately striking out with one foot in order to knock Remy off his own feet. Remy leapt into the air, clearing the attack easily. The figure came at him with a strong right hook, one that Remy was forced to take in the side before he was able to successfully block the left hook coming right after it. He shoved the hand away, landing his own punch in his opponent's stomach.

Now, Remy was usually opposed to hitting girls. That's what his Tante Mattie would call "ungentleman-like behavior." But this chick was interfering with his work, and that simply could not be allowed.

The other thief recovered quickly, going for a hit at Remy's face. He dodged, using her momentum and arm to pull her across him, then push her past him and into the wall. He plucked the stone from its perch, then promptly received a foot to the stomach from his returning opponent. He unfortunately let the stone slip from his grasp as the air violently exited his lungs, his opponent catching it in an impressive move. Remy pulled himself together, launching himself at her hand. He only managed to grab and rip off her glove, as she had tossed the stone into the air and caught it with her other hand. The limp glove in his hand was a weak consolation prize for his efforts.

The figure reprimanded him, shaking one plum-painted finger at him. "No, no, no." was all she said, then made a move to knee him in the groin. Remy, due to previous experience, was able to dodge the attack, grabbing her leg. In a last minute effort, the other thief reached up to her own collar, pulling it out and dropping the stone into the confines of her bra. Remy smirked, grabbing her shirt and bra in the middle of her torso, pulling it back and full on smiling in satisfaction as the stone fell down into his waiting hand. The other thief's eyes widened before Remy roughly shoved her back into the wall, choosing to take his escape out of the side window of the building before the other thief recovered, or the guard at the front actually noticed their appearance. The fact that the glass cover was still sitting in the corner bothered him, but considering his job was just a little bit compromised, he got over it.

Remy couldn't help but smirk as he drove back to the Guild house, stone wrapped in a cloth and placed in a rather over-embellished box. There was definitely something familiar about that other thief, and he knew precisely what it was. He had seen that shade of plum nail polish before.

--

A few hours later, Remy could be found in his room, perfecting his look for his date. Remy wasn't really one to be concerned with his appearance, but he knew that whatever Donna put on would be looking fabulous, and Remy wasn't one to be one-upped. The black button down shirt he had on matched exactly the black pin-striped slacks he had on, topped off with his fancy black and white forties-style shoes. Topped off with his second-favorite pin-striped fedora, Remy LeBeau was looking good.

He absolutely could not keep the smile off his face as he walked to Donna's apartment, whistling tunelessly with hands stuffed into his pockets. He could almost skip up the stairs to the front door, but refrained, choosing instead to just press the button and ring her. There was no verbal response from her, but a couple minutes later the front door opened to reveal a vision of blonde and black. Donna stepped out in a strapless black dress, made of some light, chiffon-like material that flowed down to her knees and whispered as she walked. Black peep-toe pumps revealed that her toenails were the same shade of plum as her fingernails.

"Good evenin', Donna." Remy said, bowing his head to her. "Ya look beautiful."

She smiled, taking the arm he offered to her. "Ya clean up rather well yerself, Remy." she said as they traipsed down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, looking around a bit confused. "Remy, where's the car?"

"Car?" Remy asked with a low chuckle. "Why, we're walkin', chere."

She perked one eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. "Yer gonna make me walk in these shoes?" she asked incredulously.

Remy just continued to smile. "It's a short walk, Donna. Besides, yer gonna be on your feet a little bit more tonight anyway."

"Oh really?" she asked as he led her down the street, her hand still on his arm. "And what exactly do ya mean by that?"

"You'll see, chere." Remy said cryptically. "You'll see."

She hmphed, choosing silence over further questioning as he took her through a few back streets, eventually leading into a small town square. Street lamps dotted down the sidewalk, illuminating doorways to old fashioned shops, all of which were closed for the night. Donna just continued to follow, though there was definitely a question in her eyes. Remy's smile grew wider with every window they passed, eventually reaching the small, barely-there doorway hiding in the shadows. If Remy hadn't led her right to it, Donna was sure that she would have overlooked it.

"Remy, what is this?" she asked as he held the door open for her.

Remy didn't respond, just followed her into the doorway and down a dark set of stairs. The cramped stairway opened into a spacious and open jazz club, with tables spread around the outskirts of the room and a dance floor in the middle. A live band was playing old Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra songs, a beautiful young woman dressed as Billie Holiday crooning softly into the microphone. Donna looked around the club, taking it all in. She had been many places in her life, but an underground jazz club was not on that list.

"Remy...wow." Donna said, truly appreciating the place for what it was.

"Shall we sit?" he asked, gesturing to a nearby empty table. After pulling her chair out for her (Tante Mattie raised him to be chivalrous), he summoned a waiter, taking his own seat across from her. Minutes later, they were sipping fine wine, the soft music definitely setting a mellow tone.

"Ya know, Ah might have misjudged ya at first, Remy." Donna said, gazing at him over the rim of her wine glass like one gazes at an intricate piece of art, where the meaning just barely eludes you.

"Ah'm full of surprises, chere, if ya just get ta know me." he said with one of his signature smirks. The waiter returned, collecting their orders for food, then leaving them alone again. Remy took this as his opportunity.

"Would ya care ta dance, chere?" he asked cheekily, standing and stretching a hand out to her. She gazed at him for a moment, as if trying to see how serious he was, before taking his hand and also standing.

"You dance, Remy?" she asked as he pulled her to the dance floor.

"Like Ah said, full of surprises." he responded, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her relatively close. He gently led her through the steps of the dance, feet placement precise and practiced. He could almost feel her awe at his dance skill - most girls seemed to have that reaction - and it quite entertained him. The song dwindled down to a close as he twirled and dipped her, pulling her back just quick enough that her skirt swished around his leg for a moment.

"Ah must say, Ah am thoroughly impressed, Mr. LeBeau." Donna said, letting loose the first genuine smile Remy had ever seen her give. "And impressin' me is a tough business."

"Ah do what Ah can." Remy responded cheekily. She didn't seem to know that it was him she had encountered earlier in the day, and he decided not to confront her about it then. He might tell her later - or he might tell her never. He liked this...human side of Belladonna. It made it easier to not hate her if she wasn't spouting derisive comments and kneeing him in sensitive areas. There wasn't a lot of conversation throughout their supper - they were still, in a way, getting used to each other - but there was plenty of dancing. Apparently Belladonna wished to put Remy through his paces, and the results came back satisfactory.

"Ya know, Ah'm not sure anyone's ever taken me dancin' on a date before." Donna mused as they walked through the empty New Orleans streets. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the jazz, but this was the most laid-back Remy had seen her in the entire time they had known each other.

"Looks like ya weren't goin' on the right dates then, chere." he replied with a smile.

"Perhaps not." she said, giving him another one of her genuine smiles, her face lighting up beautifully.

"Ya know, ya should smile like that more often." he said, walking backwards so that he could face her. "Usually it looks a little...strained."

Her smile faltered, her eyes dropped to the pavement. "There's a lot goin' on behind the scenes, Remy. Lots of things are...strainin'."

"Ah see." Remy said noncommittally. "Ya can always share it with me, if ya want. Gonna be yer husband, and all that. Ah've been told Ah'm a good listener."

One side of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "One day, maybe." she said softly, looking up at the stars as they walked. Remy fell back into step beside her, walking her up to her front door.

"Would it be weird?" he asked suddenly, taking her aback.

"Would what be weird?" she asked, confused.

"If Ah kissed ya right now."

"Oh, so yer one of those that kisses on the first date, huh?"

"Well, we are engaged, so Ah figure that normal standards aren't quite the same as what we're goin' by."

"Then Ah suppose it wouldn't be that weird, now would it?" she replied with another half smile. Remy gently placed a hand on her cheek, softly pressing his lips to hers in a light kiss.

"Goodnight, Donna." he drawled.

"Goodnight, Remy." she responded, turning and letting herself into the apartment complex. He skipped down the stairs, striding down the sidewalk with hands in pockets and eyes in the sky. He pondered the night he had just had. He certainly had not acted like himself, but she was not acting her usual either. Remy couldn't help but conclude that these two people who were not them seemed to get along pretty darn well.

--

so, what did y'all think? how do you feel about the whole remy/belladonna situation? what's going through your minds? please, drop me a line. let me know. i want to know what you're thinking!

~XM


End file.
